The Strange Life of Lyra Darrow
by MizTMRiddle
Summary: Lyra Darrow is an 11 year old witch trying to find out who her mysterious and clearly hated parents are. Can she figure out the truth before it's too late? Contains Deathly Hallows spoilers!


**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own anything remotely involved in the Harry Potter franchise.**

A/N: This is my first try at an original character for an HP fanfic, so I hope I haven't failed miserably! Please review, as it makes my day! )

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**Chapter One: Storms and Strange Arrivals  
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If you happened to be traveling through the English countryside and decided on a whim to turn down Belven Road, you would come upon St. Margaret's Orphanage. The tall, crumbling building had existed for longer than any of the nearby villagers could remember and had seen more than its fair share of children.

St. Margaret's was known for its excellent school and quiet, peaceful atmosphere. On this day in particular it seemed quieter than usual. It was only the beginning of summer but already the grass in the large front courtyard had begun to wither and yellow.

The heat and dryness of the past week had forced everyone to stay indoors and only the bravest man dared venture outside to mow the lawn. As a result, St. Margaret's had become quite overrun by weeds and the ever growing yellowed grass. Ivy had begun to sneak stealthily up the walls of the old main building, so that the fading red and brown bricks could hardly be seen anymore.

Because the windows were coated in a thick grime that no one seemed able to remove, the building's interior was constantly dark and dank. There was a musty smell about the place, which was only helped along by the darkness.

While there might be no better school for miles, there could be no denying that St. Margaret's was dangerously close to falling apart all together.

It was nearing tea time when the old proprietress Mrs. Marlow glanced out the kitchen window. She was pleased to see storm clouds gathering in the distance. Though rain would no doubt only fuel the growth of the weeds, it would make the air cooler, and that was all one could hope for in times like these.

Mrs. Marlow set the kettle on the burner and set about her evening chores. As much as she tried to sweep, dust, mop, and polish, the place never looked clean and there was always a child running through to spread dirt and mud all across the hardwood floors.

By the time the chores were finished and all the tea drank, the sky had darkened considerably. A light rain was beginning to fall as Mrs. Marlow looked in on the children's dormitory and turned out all the lights in the main hall. Thunder rumbled ominously overhead as she made her way to the large bedroom on the second floor where her comfortable four-poster bed awaited her.

But Mrs. Marlow had barely shut her eyes in an attempt at sleep before there came a loud knock at the oak front doors. For a moment, she couldn't be quite sure whether it was really a knock or merely a distant peal of thunder. But a second loud rap, more urgent than the first, confirmed the source of the noise.

Pulling herself out of bed, Mrs. Marlow lit a candle and headed down the steep staircase into the main hall. The room was so dark that even with her candle she could only see a few inches ahead. A helpful flash of lightening briefly illuminated the room enough to find the door. Mrs. Marlow pulled it open with a loud creak and peered outside.

At first she could see nothing through the torrent of rain and impenetrable darkness, but as a second streak of lightening flashed, she was aware of a hooded figure standing on the stone front steps. The figure was petite, most likely belonging to a woman, and was clutching a small bundle.

'Do come in out of the rain, it's dreadfully chill.' Mrs. Marlow said, trying to hide her annoyance at the hour and stepping back to allow the figure inside, but it made no movement.

The mystery person shook back its hood, and it was indeed a woman. From the low, flickering candlelight, Mrs. Marlow could just make out her long blonde hair cascading beautifully down her cloaked shoulders. The woman moved closer into the entryway, and the new proximity revealed her eyes. They were a stunning grey, almost silver in the candle light, but incredibly cold. Mrs. Marlow shivered, as though those beautiful eyes had just thrown ice at her.

'You take orphaned children?' The woman asked so quietly that Mrs. Marlow could barely hear her over the thundering rain. Her voice was a cold as her eyes, but there was a slight twinge of panic in it.

'Yes, of course. But there are legal matters, papers that must be signed…surely we could speak in the morning?'

'No!' The woman moved closer still, her voice betraying a slight hysteria. 'You must take her tonight!' She looked down at the bundle in her arms, and for the first time, Mrs. Marlow realized that it was a baby.

A particularly loud peal of thunder had woken her, and she was squirming unhappily in the soft fleece blanket.

'Her parents are dead. It can't wait, you must take her!' The woman repeated, thrusting the baby into Mrs. Marlow's arms.

'But surely—'

'Her name is Lyra.' The woman interrupted. 'Take care of her.'

As Mrs. Marlow looked up the strange woman, she saw that a bit of the coldness in her eyes had been replaced with a very noticeable sadness.

'Yes, yes of course.' Mrs. Marlow looked down at the tiny baby in her arms. She could be no more than six months old. Her little eyes sparkled in the dim candlelight, the same beautiful grey as her mysterious bearer.

'She's quite beautiful.' Mrs. Marlow said admiringly, with her eyes still on the little girl. But when no answer came, she looked up and saw that the entryway was completely empty. There was no sign of the cold-eyed woman, and a flash of lightening illuminated the equally vacant courtyard.

Shivering slightly and more than a little confused, Mrs. Marlow went back into the old, dilapidated building, and closed the great oak doors.

'Well, I suppose this is your home now, little Lyra.' She said with a tired smile, carrying the baby towards the nursery near her own bedroom.

Many children had come to St. Margaret's in the middle of the night or under strange circumstances, but as Mrs. Marlow finally closed her eyes in the comfort of her soft four-poster bed on that stormy summer night, she couldn't shake the feeling that the newest resident would be the strangest St. Margaret's had ever seen.

**A/N: Well, there you have it! The first chapter. I will do my very best to have the next chapter up soon. Don't forget to review! **


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